


Untitled

by tilda



Category: Prince of Tennis
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-28
Updated: 2009-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-03 21:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tilda/pseuds/tilda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tezuka goes home.</p><p><span class="small">Written 04/08<br/>Title suggestions welcome.</span></p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

The tournament is over. When the other players discover Tezuka's intention to return to Japan immediately, there is a sudden crowd of raised eyebrows and reasonable suggestions.

'The jetlag is much worse going west to east.'

'You could stay another night at the hotel.'

'You could have a good night's sleep and travel fresh.'

He thanks everyone politely and ignores them all, catching the late plane from LA International. He has no reason to stay longer. There is better tennis to play elsewhere.

He gets back at 4am. He undresses, slips quietly into their bed and spoons himself around Ryoma's heavily sleeping form. Ryoma's deep breaths and body-heat drag Tezuka under with him.

~

Tezuka wakes but doesn't open his eyes. He can feel Ryoma's body still curled loosely against his. Ryoma stirs and Tezuka feels the warm sole of a foot flat against his shin. He places his palm over Ryoma's hip in answer. They lie like this for a little while. Tezuka knows that Ryoma will eventually turn into his arms. Perhaps they will open their eyes, perhaps not. Tezuka doesn't need to: he always knows where Ryoma's mouth is.

He had always known where Ryoma was. Like a radio tuning to a particular frequency, he was alert to the way Ryoma walked, or the white cap obscuring his face, or his quiet, dismissive way of speaking. Later, when they started to play against each other, Tezuka focused on particular parts of Ryoma's body – his arms, his knees, or his hands – looking for change, for growth or injury. And then when they became closer, Tezuka's focus narrowed further still: to Ryoma's fingers, his eyes, his mouth.

He feels Ryoma beginning to turn towards him. Their legs slide together so that their bodies are pressed close. Tezuka opens his eyes. Ryoma's own eyes are heavy-lidded and the corners of his mouth slightly turned up. He has one thigh hooked over Tezuka's hip and he is leaning away from Tezuka as if Tezuka is a cliff-face he is climbing.

'Buchou,' he says, his voice still clogged with sleep. Tezuka gave up telling Ryoma not to call him that a long time ago. 'Did you win?'

'Yes,' Tezuka replies, smoothing his hand down Ryoma's thigh and drawing him closer. 'Did you?'

'Mmm.'

Tezuka closes his eyes and feels Ryoma's mouth touch his. They kiss deeply. He doesn't know how to kiss Ryoma in any other way. He tips Ryoma onto his back, drawing the covers with him, enclosing them.

They still never touch in public. Tezuka has seen how other couples greet each other with a peck on the cheek or the lips, how they touch each other's forearms, or walk down the street hand-in-hand. Tezuka cannot imagine how they do this. That he and Ryoma are both men is not the issue. To kiss Ryoma on the cheek would be an insult. But then, he has always found people who aren't Ryoma slightly mystifying.

In the warm fug under the covers, Ryoma touches Tezuka's cheek and says 'Kunimitsu' quietly, as if to himself. Tezuka kisses Ryoma's knee. It is very different from their first time. That had been quick and they had gripped each other hard enough to raise small bruises. Tezuka had cried out when he came, shocking both of them.

Now it is slow and they hardly make a sound.

~

Tezuka listens idly to Ryoma's heartbeat slow and feels Ryoma's fingers in his hair, stroking, fiddling. Soon they will get up and have a slightly uncoordinated breakfast. Ryoma will leave most of his and reach into Tezuka's bowl with his eating-sticks and Tezuka will not mind. Ryoma will feed half of it back to him anyway. They will sit next to each other in their robes, looking out across the small garden to their court. Their house is small because they put all their money into the tennis-court. Atobe laughed at their house when he first came to visit. Tezuka didn't care. Atobe didn't laugh at the tennis-court.

Later, they will play.

~

The game is measured. Tezuka can feel Ryoma's shots through the length of his arm, warming his nerves and muscles as if Ryoma was standing beside him, running his hand over his skin. The power is familiar but always takes him by surprise, especially now, having been away so long. They don't play each other often, as they usually play all day, wiping each other out, leaving them good for nothing else. They also play to test each other, to see how each has grown and improved. They play now because they can't not.

They haven't shaken hands after a match in years. They walk to the end of the net together, talking about their game and Ryoma puts his hand in Tezuka's pocket. The jet-lag is starting to kick in and Tezuka feels heavy. Even though he knows the court is overlooked by several neighbours, he reaches over to rest his palm against Ryoma's nape. They will play all day tomorrow.


End file.
